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“Pass me the dill weed please.” I tell Lily as she sits on the counter, her bare legs dangling down, her heels bumping up against the cabinet doors in the large kitchen.

“What are we having?” She asks, fingering the caps on the spice jars in the rack next to her as she looks for the right one.

“Piroshki. Russian meat pies. They’re very good, and filling.”

“Mmmm, I can’t wait.”

She watches as I cook, her eyes following me around the kitchen as I chop the meat and onion and press the dough on the cutting board into little circles. When it’s time to fill the dough and squeeze them shut to make the pockets, she hops down and stands in front of me, letting me direct her hands on how to put everything together.

It’s the first time since my mother was alive that a woman has been in this kitchen, and the first woman besides her who has helped me cook.

I could get used to this.

She watches through the oven door as they bake, her head next to mine, her lips in a broad grin as they become golden brown. Her stomach rumbles loudly as the timer goes off and I pull the little meat pockets out, setting them on the stove top to cool off.

“Very hot. Don’t touch them yet.” I find myself telling her when she reaches out her little hand towards them, sounding just how mother used to warn me so I wouldn’t burn myself.

I can almost smell her here with us, her perfume, and the scent of her shampoo. The heat from cooking always brought out her scent, and I would sit here just like Lily has been, watching her, listening to her hum her little tunes.

When the steam stops wafting from the food, I plate six of them and carry them to the counter where Lily has seated herself again, stepping between her naked legs, my damp sweats brushing up against her sex. She looks down at the outline of my cock in the fleece then at the food, and I can see the trepidation in her eyes. She’s deciding over food or dick.

“Food baby. Then dick.” I laugh, holding up a piroshki for her. “Take a small bite and let the steam come out for a minute.

I feel almost parental as I feed her, watching her take small bites and blowing on the food until it’s cool enough to take bigger bites. Her eyes roll back in her head, and she moans in delight as she devours each and every pie like she hasn’t eaten in forever. I know now how mother felt when she cooked for me, and I ate everything on my plate. It’s a satisfied feeling in taking care of another. Who would have thought that the evil H would be enjoying taking care of something? Fuck, not me.

As satisfying as it is, it’s also foreign, and it feels weird inside of me. I used to get the same sensation when I was young, and mother always told me that it was happiness, to embrace it. I never did.

It’s really shitty when happiness feels wrong.

“You good?H?”

“Hmmm? Yeah. Guess I slipped away there for a second.” I answer her, shaking my head clear from the memories of the past.

“I’m full, are you going to eat anything?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Ooohhh.” She says, then laughs as I toss her backwards on the counter, lifting her legs up, spreading them apart. Her sex is still bright pink from earlier, and there’s a sheen of dried cum on her flesh. I lick my lips looking at it.

Her scent is powerful, the sweetness heavily laden with musk from her climaxes before, and it makes my mouth water like a rabid dog. I dive between her thighs, wrapping my hands around them, squeezing them on my head as I lick a long, hard stroke up from her asshole to her clit.

She tastes divine and her pussy twitches under my ministrations, begging for more, just like the dirty girl she is. I lap and lick, flicking that little clit with the tip of my tongue before going back down to her opening. Pointing my tongue, I push it into her, fucking her with it, reveling in the flavor of her insides.

“H.” She moans, her hands coming to my head, her fingers lacing in my hair, pulling me closer to her, burying my face so tightly into her that I can’t breathe.

Who needs breath when they have prime pussy in their mouth? Not me. I attack her with my tongue and lips, licking harder, and sucking on her. Covering her whole cunt with my mouth and drawing everything I can into it. She’s so wet, and so needy that she fills my mouth over and over again as I swallow her down.

My cock is raging hard, and she already orgasmed many times today. She’s hot and pliable and ready for me without another climax, and I can’t wait to be in her any longer.

“I need to be inside of you, princess.” I say, climbing up her body, kissing her soft belly, then full breasts, and up to her mouth. I close my eyes and drive my tongue past her lips as I push my cock in her cunt.

I kiss her like I’ve been starved for it for decades, so deep and fast, licking her tongue and teeth and everything else I can. It’s so heady and warm, and it matches the way I stroke her pussy with my dick.

The counter shakes under her as I fuck her mercilessly. I thrust hard, hearing her feet banging on the cabinet doors again. Her head lolls side to side on the wooden countertop as I taste every surface of her mouth.

“H.” She pants, her hands grabbing me, squeezing my back, digging her nails into me.

“That’s it baby. Make me bleed for you.” I say, kissing her in little pecks now, all over her face, chin, and neck.

Her body undulates, her back arching, her legs spreading further apart as I ram into her over and over again, making her pant and groan. It’s sex dripping so heavily with primordial lust that I don’t notice the wooden cutting board above her head tilting.

“Owww.” She cries out, reaching up, holding her forehead, her legs trying to close on instinct.

The sound of a female voice crying out in pain, in this room, on this counter, it’s like shooting me out of a cannon and landing me back in the past. I’m on top of the beautiful Lily, with her red hair and freckles, but in my mind, I’m hiding in that pantry, and the woman crying on the counter is mother, and it’s father between her legs.

“No, no, no!” I bellow out, the vision changing again, not seeing my flower anymore. It’s mother under me. It’s her blood on my hand as I wipe Lily’s forehead and look at the red stain on my skin. “Oh God, no.”

What am I doing? Mother? Mother?

“H? Hedeon, what’s wrong?”

I know it’s Lily, but I don’t recognize her. It’s not her, even though it is. It’s my mother, with her bloodied face and her slit throat. She’s gurgling out my name for me to help her, but there’s nothing I can do.

I’m screaming in my own head, or am I? Am I screaming out loud? I must be. The face below me flickers, and it’s Lily again. She’s scared. I’m doing something to frighten her again. She’s going to run away now. She’ll be gone just like the only other woman in my life. They all leave me.

I can’t breathe, I can’t see right, I can’t hear anything except my heart hammering in my ears and the sounds of the night I watched my mother die at the hands of that ghost that I disposed of this morning.

“Ha!.. This morning. So long ago, but not. So much has happened.”

I’m talking to myself like a maniac, losing my ever-loving mind. I can barely hear my words, but she can, and she’s afraid. She’s frozen beneath me, her head bleeding, her eyes becoming vacant… Wait, those aren’t her eyes, they’re the wrong color.

“Mother, mom!” I scream pushing away from the bloodied face below me, tripping on the pants around my knees.

I’m panicking. I can see her and hear her choking on her own blood, I can smell it so thickly in the air. I have to get out of here. “Run H, run.” Mother cries out to me, and this time I listen.